Maharet's Blogs

She Makes Me Laugh

I was trying to write a blog about my mom. She passed away June 30th, 2012 just 5 days after my last blog post. Seems I just can't seem to bring myself to do it. My stomach is all knotted up again. I'm okay. Most days I feel alright now. I had a lot of support from my family. They all came together in the blink of an eye.

I've kept myself busy after all the funeral arrangements. Lots of knitting a crocheting. I'm getting really good at it. Haven't gamed much, but I did make a few new friends on Mass Effect. Enjoyed the rocket launcher glitch while it lasted that's for sure.

I'm still really sad that I lost my mom so soon. So very quickly. I don't really talk about her to my friends at work. Or my friends period. I've even stopped talking about her to my sister. Waves of panic and depair still haunt me, but it doesn't last as long as it did in the beginning. Now, I'm able to control the sobs to the point where only a few tears will come out.

I'm able to smile more when I remember her. In fact she makes me laugh.

I have no idea how to unravel my thoughts so I’ll start of by writing one sentence at a time. I’ve been struggling with my mother for the past few months now. Her illness has taken a toll in all of our lives. She’s not been the best mother in the world, but she’s my mother. When she landed in the hospital with cancer a few months ago I didn’t know I was capable of doing the things I did. I hate hospitals, but I sat with my mother for hours and hours on end sometimes overnight with no where to lie down. I sat in a chair and wrapped my legs around the arms of another chair and kind of sort of slept like that until she was out of danger.

I spent more time with my mother in that hospital the first few weeks than I had in the last few years. Whatever bitterness and resentment I felt towards her just melted away the second I received her diagnosis. Cancer??? Cancer? WTF? Liver failure, kidney failure yes…yes that I would understand, that I was prepared for, but not cancer. Not that. Not stage 4 fucking cancer. How the fuck? “Suck it up bitch.”, I thought to myself. Gotta do what you gotta do right? Be strong and put one foot in front of the other every single moment of every single fucking day. Go to work, clean your house, feed your husband, put gas in the car, go to the hospital and then what? Sit for hours on end day after day after day? I couldn’t do that without something in my hands so I decided I would learn how to knit properly once and for all.

I would sit there next to my mother the entire time knitting and knitting then eventually pearling. I knit so much I learned to knit in the dark while she slept. I was calm. I was collected. I was able to view my mothers open gut wound, necrotic tissue beginning to form, and not pass the fuck out. The Dr’s thought I was strange because even a nurse would cringe at the site of their own mothers innards. Not me. I was impassive. I was a monument. I was fucking stone. Don’t get me wrong. I was a right mess the rest of the time, just not in front of her.

I don’t know how but we got through it. I brought her home with me and I learned how to change an ostomy bag. I cooked and cleaned after her. I prepped her room for ostomy accidents so she’d feel comfortable. I’ve gone nuts trying to ram her medication down her throat, make her drink more fluids and eat more. She needed to gain weight after the entire ordeal so she could begin chemotherapy as soon as possible, but it wasn’t working. Eventually after doing everything in my power and pumping her full of all types of weight gain supplements I managed to maintain her weight and she even gained two pounds. The next thing you know she’s on chemo. Trying to make this woman understand that she can’t take her chemo pills with ice cream is like trying to tell a Jehovah’s Witness that knocking on your door at 7am on a Saturday morning just ain’t Christian. You know they’ll be back next Saturday.

Last week I had about as much as I could take of this nonsense. I got so sick and tired of repeating myself to her that I would feed her and walk away. I’d ask her if she took her meds and she’d say she did or didn’t. I was getting angry, but I wasn’t sure why I was so short tempered. She looked horrible. I kept asking her if she wanted to stop the chemo if it was too strong, if she was throwing up everything why take it, but she kept saying she was fine. The final straw for me was this, “Mom, did you take your anti-nausea medication?” And she said in the most non-chalant way, “No, well it’s a good thing I didn’t ‘cause I threw everything up.” It was like a line out of a bad joke and I just can’t fight with someone like that. All you can do is wait for the inevitable and hope for the best. I couldn’t make her drink, I couldn’t make her eat and I couldn’t make her take her medication. We fought a lot last week and I asked her if she was trying to kill herself because if she was she’s doing a great job. She said that she felt like she was back where she started in the first place. So I said, “Then let’s go to the fucking hospital right now because if that’s the case they you’re dying! Are you dying Mom?” She said no.

The next day she asked me to take her to the hospital because she thinks she needs an IV. In Spanish we call is Suero. Well if Suero was all she needed then I went out and got it for her. Drink it (pedialite)! We’re not sitting in the hospital for hours on end just so she can have an IV when she should have been drinking more fluids in the first place instead of arguing with me about it constantly. I was furious. To top it off my husband was starting his first day of official training at his new job. Between him and my mom I was going nuts. I called in the big guns. My little sister. Long ago she was a surgical technician and she’d know what to do. I really want to write about what happened next, but circumstances being what they are I simply can not. I’ve already gotten into so much trouble with my husband about this. I made a horrible split second decision and lied to him about something that truly put his job at risk. His brand fucking new job, but my mother was so ill and I just didn’t know what else to do.

Well, we got caught and my husband left for work in a fury and my sister dashed away with my mother. “You needed the break anyway.”, She said wide eyed and scared as I was. She took mom home with her, before she took off I asked her if she shouldn’t just drop me and mom off at the hospital, but she said it was fine. She was going to take her home and keep an eye on her for a bit, but called not long after to tell me that mom could barely hold her head up and said she was taking her to the hospital. I wanted to die.

She called 911 and mom was admitted right away. Her kidneys were failing and she’s septic, but they have no idea why. The next day I told the Dr’s the trouble I’ve been having. I said, “Dr. because she wasn’t following the regiment that she was given there is no way to tell if her current condition is because of that or because her body was going to fail anyway right?” He said I was exactly right and that there was nothing I could have done. Everyone is saying that, but it’s not making me feel any better. The only thing that I can take comfort in is that she’s in the most kick ass hospital I’ve ever seen. Her bathroom is bigger than mine is and if I had to spend the night wouldn’t have to balance on two shitty chairs. I could take one of two lazyboys or the chase bench by the window. It’s FABULOUS!

Today I plan on knitting by my mother’s side until it’s time to pick my husband up. I’ll knit until I finish my current project and work on completing the previous one. I would knit until my hands bled if I knew that would make my mom all better again.

5 minutes to the close and I'm out of here. I'm going out with a friend for a drink. I plan on running straight downstairs and buying a pack of cigarettes. I quit smoking 2 years ago and you know what? I can still hear this fucking pounding in my ear even louder than when I was smoking. It comes and goes but it's enough to make your fucking skin crawl.

If you could hear your heart beat and blood rush over and over and over again throughout your entire skull you would want to rip it out of your fucking chest. I can not explain how horrific this feeling is. I live with it every single day. Every single day I ignore it, I'm patient, I live with it. Every single day. Like an additional appendage it's just there. Just there, but sometimes it freakin' hurts.

Toss that together with mistake after mistake throughout the week and arguments with my poor mother and I've had just about as much as I can take.

The stock market closes in a few more seconds, I'm clocking out and runing away screaming like a bitch. I'm fucking done with this day. In 5 more minutes I'll be right as rain. :)

Bullying… peh. I keep getting these stupid messages on my facebook from friends demanding that I share anti-bullying messages. The messages usually include how to recognize a bully or when you’re being bullied. You know what? I don’t give a fuck. You know you’re being bullied when someone makes you feel uncomfortable in a certain way and when they’re doing or saying certain things. Why? Because your mother kicked your ass if you EVER did that to someone else that’s how you know something is wrong. Your mom, if she was any good, taught you empathy.

The trick is what to do when shit happens to you ‘cause let’s face it. Some mom’s suck ass. What I want to see distributed everywhere is how to handle a bully. I mean handle. Verbally & physically. You put your hands on me. I warn you. Do it again, I tell someone (your friends & at least one adult in a position to see this going on). Do it again, I have witnesses bitch, now watch me defend myself. Worst case scenario of course…you don’t want to get kicked out of school or go to jail so you can’t “hurt” them. Meaning, don’t leave a mark.

Here’s how something like this can go wrong. Let’s say I bullied you for a year both physically and verbally. I wore you down. You took Karate and the next time you see me proceed to kick my ass and break my nose. Guess who gets in trouble? You do. The victim. Why? I didn’t leave a mark. That means, I couldn’t possibly have hurt you as much as you hurt me. Get it? And if no one knew what you were going through no one will care to hear the back story. No one will give a shit that you had been under extreme duress for a year because you are the one with the anger management problem. YOU were out of control.

What sparked this discussion? My niece is going through something like this, but the poor dear is in the 4rth grade. Guess who they want to remove from the classroom and all her friends. Her. Why? After a “year” of being bullied she’s finally had enough and is beginning to fight back. The last incident: The brat bully snatched a piece of paper (homework) out of her hands, tore it to shreds in front of her face and proceeded to laugh mockingly. My niece…THREW her milk container at her face. HER FACE! LOL That’s my girl, unfortunately she got caught, went to the principal and mom got called in…again.

No fun, but here’s how she should have handled this. Say nothing. Pick up her shredded homework, grab a friend and take it to her teacher. Her homework will be excused, but let the teacher know mom will be informed for this infraction. Tell her mom. At this point mom should be writing stuff down dates and all so she can give a copy to the teacher & principal. Copies should be handed out weekly or monthly depending on the severity of the case, how often and against whom.

The next time she runs into the bully, the bully will feel in control, self confident and brave enough to run into her on her own. Say…the bathroom. With no witnesses she should then throw her into a stall, slam her around a bit and shove a piece of paper in her mouth. Don’t leave a mark, don’t get hit and RUN like a bitch. The next time she sees her she’ll probably want to fight ‘cause she’s a ghetto ass bully like that. My niece’s friends should scream for the teacher or run and grab her. My niece should put her arms out and say out loud she doesn’t want any trouble. Maybe the bully will try to beat her up. As long as there are witnesses she’ll let her throw the first punch. Hopefully the bully will make it a good clean punch. My niece should then proceed to grapple her ass into submission without breaking any limbs. (Note to self. Teach niece how to grapple and not break limbs).

During said grappling my niece should ask the bully to please stop trying to hurt her. The bully will be expelled. Bravo.

Wouldn’t it be nice though?

Unfortunately things don’t always work out that way so my advice to my niece…Don’t get caught, but if you do make sure it goes in your favor. That means choose your situations wisely.

*Disclaimer: This is not advice to any minor or adult individual and should not be taken as such. If it is…don’t get caught, don’t leave a mark. I’m seriously just kidding. Jessus, can’t you take a joke? Just tell an adult. And If you’re an adult, tell your wife/girlfriend.

** Disclaimer: In all seriousness stand up for yourself, stick together & always always always tell an adult.

I feel blocked, stumped, corked, stopped up, analy cornholed. I can't think straight half the time. I either make decisions to quickly or make them too fast to think them through properly. My current relationship is an exceptional and constant reminder of that. I married my Xbox Live Sweetheart from across the pond 7 years ago. But I don't want to talk about him. Most of my blogs have been about or because of him, but not today.

No today I really just have nothing to say. I keep getting this horrible stabbing pain in my chest and it doesn't want to go away. Could have something to do with my recent reaction to the site upon my arrival. I feel like I simply can't handle anymore stress in my life and just didn't want to deal with anything at all. I just want to have fun. I want to ignore everything else in my life.

I don't want to think about the fact that my Mom is sitting in the next room recovering from a recent surgery and cancer diagnosis. I don't want to think about the thundering roaring whooshing sound in my ear that never EVER goes away. I don't want to think about my little sister and all her very big problems and very sad sad life. I don't want to think about the fact that I'm being constantly overlooked at my firm simply because I'm a girl. In fact, I don't even want to fathom it. I would much...MUCH rather think that it's because I'm simply not good enough to be a Junior Broker. Not smart enough. I don't have a degree. In fact I never graduated from High School. That's right kiddies. This right here is a High School drop out. Fuck it. I went to College. Dropped out of that too. Long story.

Can you believe I'm still sad that my Morrigan died earlier this year? I didn't tell anyone how much money I spent on her surgery last year. Close to $1200 to save a cats life. All I did was extend her life for about 5 months. Maybe less. Best cat ever.

My bunny Lenore is lonely. I feel bad for her, but 3 cats and a bunny is too much. Long...Long motherfucking story.

Now wait a minute, before you get all, “Oooh, let’s jump on Kinect girly.” Let me tell you something. Blocking people isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. Not just because it’s pointless since their activity is posted all over the internet. Not even because blocked people can still contact you via other people’s blogs. When someone is blocked on GTP they KNOW they’ve been blocked period because THEY can see you & your activity too. That was fucking news to me and it really fucking sucks and could be totally hurtful. *sad panda face* I don’t want to be mean and hurtful to anyone for no reason at all. Now I have guilty inside feelings. *sniff*

No one here really did anything to me other than make me feel like there was a slim possibility that I could be viewed as a horny perv. Bad enough as it is…I have a bit of a reputation you know. I’m totally making this up by the way. It’s all part of the writes block exercise. Srsly. *ahem*

So with that said, I’m going to remove the blocks and take my licks for my misdeeds.

Turns out, I kinda like the people that I blocked. I’m old and feeble and don’t really know how the interwebs works anymore.

I’m sick of feeling like a dumb ass pervert every time I log onto GTP. Everywhere I turn there’s a half naked body on my screen boys & girls alike. Every other blog I read is full of crap. Occasionally you’ll find a good one here and there, but if I’m not staring at half naked people I’m reading babble, nonsense and plain idiotic ranting and raving. What happened?

Well, I have a fabulous idea! I’m freakin’ blocking motherfuckers from the start. Just fat fucking blocking mother fuckers. Why didn’t this incredible idea ever occur to me before? Okay, you’re probably thinking I’m a nut job at this point and I should go fuck myself. Well…yes and..yes….and I do ‘cause I’m a girl and can kind of technically do that, BUT I want to increase my GTP enjoy-ability in order to increase the chances of logging back on another day. For the most part those silly little things keep me away. That and I really feel that I lost my blogging mojo. Something happened to me a long the way. I think I got happy…*shudder* weird.

So, for now I’m blocking half naked people that make me feel like a pedophile even though they’re over 18*…I’m like halfway closer to death than most people here so feeling kinda pervie. And I’m deleting people that trick me into clicking on their blog link even though I know damn well they don’t have anything good to say. Basically anything that looks as follows:

It’s like a can’t fucking help myself. Like a moth to a flame I slide my mouse over and burn in the flames of my own idiotic stupidity when I get to a blog chock FULL of similar posts. WTF am I doing? WHAT?

I used to feel guilty about things like this, but no longer friends and compatriots! I’m a new woman! I’m taking charge…I’m…lol I’m freakin retarded.

Anyway, the point of this little exercise is simply to release a little tension, make my time on GTP more enjoyable and get rid of this shitty fucking bloggers block. If your against me, feel free to leave your shitty post below so I can block you now. Or leave me a shitty message and tell me your blocking my ass first to make yourself feel better. It'll work either way I promise. If your with me, let's start blocking stupid people together.

Fuck yeah. I'm loving my bloggers block remedy.

*Half naked people over 40 can and will remain unblocked unless they expect me to get naked on Kinect…They however can feel free to get naked on Kinect all they want. I’m a little freaky like that.**

Getting a Christmas tree in my house safe and sound is not an easy household task. Sure it’s just Rigid, myself and 4 cats, but for some reason the likes of which I still do not understand to this day Rigid doesn’t like trees. In fact I could quite easily say he abhors them. I wrote about this years back. I might actually write about this every year because every single year getting a Christmas tree is an issue. One year I actually went without just to avoid the hassle, but of course I’ve never been one to shy away from conflict so I don’t have that problem anymore.

We’ve recently celebrated our 5th Anniversary. Now I’m starting to wonder how many Christmas’s we’ve actually had together. Ah, memory lane. Let’s see, 2004 our first Christmas was spent apart and we were only planning our wedding. We were married Nov 2005 and celebrated our very first Christmas as a happily married couple. I remember it like it was yesterday, I do…I just read the blog (I jest). In an effort to keep it short I’ll just tell you what he did wrong. He threw my Christmas tree into the corner of the living room because he didn’t want to take it off the roof of the car the same day we brought the tree home. Um…yeah.

In 2006 I just didn’t want to go through anything like that ever again and didn’t bother to get a tree which is just not like me AT ALL. I don’t think I’d ever in my life been without a tree on Christmas. I didn’t like it not one little bit. 2007 rolled around and I was at a quandary. Do I go yet another year without a tree or do I shove my fist up my husbands asshole and make him my puppet. My husband loves me to no end and this gives me all the leverage I need so I got my tree though it hurt a little. I waited until the last minute to get my tree and I don’t think I really decorated it much. By the time Christmas rolled around it looked awful. I can’t remember, but I’m sure he made me cry just buying it. Still, I was in bitch mode.

By the time 2008 rolled around I was ready for my tree, but it’s always the same thing with him. “Why don’t we get a fake tree. I always had a fake tree.” Or my favorite, “You’re not the one that has to pick up all he needles.” As if he actually picks up the needles by hand. I get it having a real tree in your house for a month can be hard work for like a day, but why is it so hard to simply enjoy the process and enjoy the beautiful warm glow in your living room? I can’t get into Christmas until I have my tree, I just can’t! That year I was unhappy with the crappy decorations I had on my tree so I went all out and bought new ones. My tree was beautiful, but I only got to enjoy it for about a week before Christmas. Last year it was about 2 weeks before Christmas, but for the first time getting a tree wasn’t as big a struggle as it was in the past. For the first time I brought a tree home without having first cried either before or after.

This year…we almost didn’t make it. I almost cried because he was starting up again. I complained that we get our tree at the same store every year. He didn’t feel like taking trees out to display (at this point he’d taken 3 out) to me so he dragged me to a Christmas tree lot where all the trees are beautiful and perfectly trimmed or flocked. I told him I wasn’t going to pay $100 for a tree and he looked at me like I was insane. Why would the tree cost $100? How ridiculous am I? I could feel the burning tears ready to come out, but I held back my emotions and just placated him by going along with it. After looking at all the beautiful trees I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford I finally asked him to check the price on the one little tree that was perfect for me. $99.99…. um that’s a far cry from $40 for a Noble Fir of the same height and width isn’t it? I looked at a Douglas Fir…$79. I could find a Douglas Fir for $19. FUCK YOU. I left.

We went back to my store and he took out all the trees I wanted him to. I found the PERFECT tree, but I didn’t bring it home because it was missing the whole top bit and I like to have a tree topper so I settled. I know Rigid doesn’t understand why I’m so crazed about my Christmas tree and I know that to anyone else it wouldn’t seem crazed at all. Rigid is a lazy person, so am I, but doing something that doesn’t interest him in the least is like asking Jabba The Hut to walk to the corner on his own two feet. It’s pretty much impossible…he doesn’t have any feet. What only should have taken 30 min’s took nearly 2 hrs because he was too busy either bitching or dragging his ass.

Suffice it to say we got our tree home in one piece and no one cried…this time...and it wasn't tossed into the corner.

So, I've been meaning to post something here for a while. What ends up happening is I blog straight to blogger and never cut and paste my update here.

Suffice it to say that I survived the horrors of being alone for months. The experience was awful and exciting. I felt so many things being on my own that I'd never felt before. Aside from feeling horribly alone I realized that I'm not quite as independent as I thought and that I keep a cleaner house when I'm on my own. Maybe, that I'm a little stronger than I thought too.

Rigid's Army Graduation came and went and he's been home for a few months now. He's been home so long now that our time apart feels like a distant memory. Like a dream. He's been home so long now that he's getting on my fucking nerves again.

Can you believe this fucker? He had the balls to tell me that he's cooking the Turkey because he can do it better. Basically, I get to be his assistant and help him with the prep. THE FUCKING PREP....are you shitting me?

When you seem to lose your way as a blogger how do you find your way back? Ever had so much to say, but not the words to say it? That's me. That's what I've been going through...

Still,... It's funny you know. Back in the day I didn't really stop to think about what I wrote. The sentences that I threw out seemed to flow right out of my brain, through my finger tips and onto my blog. Like hell if I cared about grammar let alone context. Screw it if it doesn't make any sense, I'll think about it later or so I lied to myself. Now, I can barely get a few sentences out without stopping to read, re-read and read again...as if I'm going to actually change a word of it! LMFFAO!

I guess the point is, I have no point. I am pointless. My life is pointless, my marriage is pointless, my cats are pointless, my work is pointless and my family is...well, pretty much about as pointless as you can get. Sans points, that's what I say. None. Zilch..Sin punto!

I think I'm a little depressed. Heh. Heh...It's May 3rd. Rigid passed his physical, filled out all the required paperwork, passed the background check, took his oath and got his Military ID. When asked how soon he would like to go to Basic Training he said, "Tomorrow." So he has until the end of this month. You know, the thought of being alone for 3 months was slightly daunting when contemplating it before he took the oath. After he took the oath it was a little more on the choking side. Once he had his ID it was a little more complete. Not so much a choking feeling, but a pinching one right on my chest. You know, that part of your chest that requires room for breathing in and out. Yeah, that one.

I'm finding myself sort of staring at the clock so to speak. Counting down the days. I keep telling myself not to think about it, that I'll be fine. Of course, it's hard to feel fine and strong when Rigid stops and tells everyone he sees that he's joined the Guard. Then people get this strange crestfallen look on their face, kind of like they're looking at a dead man. They look at me and say, "But...but....are you okay with this? I mean, are you okay? How do you feel about this?"

To which I say, "What do you mean? I'm doing a little jig inside. I'm going to have a great time while he's away. It's fucking party time." What the fuck do people want me to say? I feel like I'm slowly being crushed from the inside out? I push away waves of panic and anger into the back of my head and try to keep a straight face? I really want to kick him in the balls every until he ships off? What the fuck am I supposed to say? PEOPLE ARE SO FUCKING STUPID! Why can't they just say, "Hey, good for you man. You're going to have a tough time, but I know you can do it. Good luck and have a nice fucking day." There...what's hard? And to me, what do you really need to say? Not much other than, "Buy some stamps."

Wow, I sit on a corner next to the bathrooms and someone just farted before they walked in to the men’s room. THAT'S FUCKING GREAT! I'm so fucking happy. LOL Hysterical. See, it's the little things in life right? Yeah, that's what it has to be.

So I thought I could do it. I thought I could be strong and not break down and so far I've broken down twice. Like kind of hard. (Not counting the little whinny ones) Last night Rigid put me to bed, tucked me in, gave me my monkey and held me for a long time. Yeah, I have a fucking monkey okay? Get over it. ...*sigh* It's a long story and no I don't suck my thumb...much. I'm kidding...mostly. You know what he told me to sooth me and calm my hysterical nerves?

"It's okay. Don't cry. You'll have lots to do on your own." *wailing in the background*

"Your an Army wife now, you have to be strong." *argh*

"It's only going to be for 3 1/2 months...Maybe 4 1/2 if I get my Ranger course." *more wailing*

"Think about it this way, it's more money for all the things we want." *ceaseless wailing*

"Hooha, if you're this distraught over 3 1/2 months what are you going to do when I'm gone for a year? *if you can imagine even louder, eye popping wailing please insert here.*

Rigid has a funny way of calming me down doesn't he? He pushes me in the wrong direction until I'm so fucking tired I just hug my monkey and fall asleep. Who thinks I'm a bit clingy! Raise your hands. :) Yay. Well, I'm okay with it. Sure I'm feeling a little broken inside, but we need the money and citizenship is just around the corner. I’m sure I’ll get used to this feeling. This vastly empty feeling…This won’t be the last time he leaves for this amount of time if not longer so I’d better start getting used to it now. Right?

It’ll be like having your friend (in this case the National Guard) yank off a really stubborn band aid. You know, the kind that rips out bits of flesh and hair. Those are painful, more like duct tape like band aids I think and always require the assistance of a faithful and patience free friend. The kind of friend that has been sitting there watching you poke at your band aid, flinching and gasping yet relishing each hair you manage to save for a total of 1.5 minutes until they can’t take it anymore and suddenly RRRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP! Off comes the band aid and hair. That’s my analogy of what it will be like to have my husband here one day and gone the next for close to 3 ½ months…maybe 4 ½ only it won’t feel like 1.5 mins it will feel more like 3 ½ - 4 ½ months. YAY. What a pointless analogy. Wow…I’m so smart. I like me. That’s all that matters right?

I wonder if he'll write to me? We've been gaming together since 2003. We've haven't spent a night apart since 2005. Now I'm supposed to get used to a letters only system. I get a phone call when he arrives and then nothing. Nothing. Can anyone, other than another army wife of course, actually conceive of this? You’re best mates on Xbox Live. You follow each other around planning the next move from game to game until the day you meet. Suddenly his friends are your friends and your friends are his friends. You’re never apart, not even when he’s in the next room playing video games because he’s playing with you. I go from that to nothing. Holy.

Some people take these sad moments in life and get more productive. Maybe they’ll take on a few more tasks to get through their day. Bury themselves in work or take charge of their sisters baby shower because she’s about to give birth at any moment. Me? No, I can’t do that. I can’t bring myself to care and I really thought I was so much stronger than that. I really honestly did. Come to find out, not so much. Not so much at all.